RP:Scouting the Path

From HollowWiki

Part of the Reopening the Bazaar Arc


This is a Merchant's Guild RP.


Rhocielle journeyed through the northern areas of Port Rynvale to find the best route to the remains of Castle Archmosia, and the Bazaar.

Northern Plateau and Barren Wilderness of Rynvale

Arien's shadow moved as such through Port Rynvale upon disembarking from the ferry that brought him from the mainland. Tall armored figured moved swiftly alongside the shades of buildings, lit only by the light of twin moons overhead. Digitigrade legs pounded silently upon cobblestone pavement until reaching the Marigold Bridge, choosing to investigate the blocked eastern path to the plateaus thereafter.

The rocky and jagged path that led eastward to the northern plateaus gave the wolfen warder some pause. A small leather-bound notebook and sliver of charcoal were removed from his satchel. Claw tipped digits of his paws deftly held both items as he took detail note of his surroundings. The path the leathern soles of his feet walked along abruptly ended at a large stone wall. Stone, not brick, his palm confirmed upon touching the material; his clawed tips at each fur coated digit grazed lightly upon the rough surface. Tucking notebook inside his shirt, he took firm hold of the protruding stones in the poorly constructed barrier to climb over the other side of it. It was rather tall, the crew that had built it using the rocky outcroppings on either side of the wall to not only bear load but also make up some of construction material. Paw over paw the armor clad wolf scaled the wall until reaching it top. The extent of the plateaus to the north east came as a spectacular view under the celestial glow of Hollow's twin moons. Perched now atop the wall, his notebook was produced once more.

Despite the bestial appearance of the wolf, he was a rather educated soul in a world where magic and superstition reigned. Soft clicks of his tongue gave a tuneless melody to the night as a pair of fur coated digits held a scribbling piece of charcoal. Crude sketches, they nevertheless conveyed their information with precise detail. Over two shoulders high, arm length deep... he mused to himself while taking glancing measurements. A graceful leap brought the black furred Lycan onto the other side of the wall, the surroundings no different from whence he came. Quietly he trekked across dead and dusty earth of the plateau that would eventually lead to his final destination: the site of Castle Archmosia.

The norther eastern corner of the plateau eventually came into view, offering contrasting environments. To left was a field of dry brush and twigs, charred earth beneath revealing that it was often plagued by wild fires. The brush would have to be cleared if it was to be made part of the future road. A muffle blasted resonated behind Rhocielle, prompting canine ears to jut up in an alert state. Warm humidity-laden air reached his nostrils, covering his visible black fur with a faint dew. Pivoting on his heels to immediately come to sight with whatever had caused it, his grey eyes would see the receding fountain of a geyser. In the steaming pools that surrounded the circular fissure, odd plant life grew. Bright, seemingly ripe, fruit littered the branches and the pools themselves. To the north, only the barren wasteland of the valley separated him from the previous caste grounds. It was time to begin his journey along the alternate path.

Dense fog loomed just above ground when the armor clad wolf returned to the track along a small stream. Dawn was mere hours away. Heated breath from his nostrils danced with the contrasting chill of the air around him. To the north the dragon lands awaited. He stepped into the hazy wilderness. The soft chatter of dormant animals filled his canine ears. Dragons. Despite the visible fog shrouding the area that continued from the stream, there was little to be found in the wasteland in the sense of humidity. The air around him felt warm, suffocating, as he were in a kiln already prepared to bake clay, or bread in an oven. No vegetation was to be found, save for the occasional dying plant here and there. What little could be seen from obstructed moonlight, augmented by sharp wolfen eyes, revealed a dry cracked earth beneath his clawed toes. An idle dip of his foot grazed the soil, confirming as much. Flat, possibly hard to dig into, but would make the building of a road go much smoother; this was only if provided travelers were not attacked by the dragons that were known to haunt the eerie desolate wasteland. As if summoned by thought alone, a shadow flew overhead. Rune inscribed muzzle scrunched visible. To the west lay more barren terrain, to the east was the cliff face of the plateau he had previously scoured. Quickly he approached the cliff in a stalking crouch after securing his notebook, keeping a low profile with the aid of not only the darkness of the remaining night, but also the low hugging fog as well.

Closer and closer the curving of the plateau became, the ground slowly rising to meet with the natural made pathway that would lead once more to the top of higher grounds. The soft glow of a threatening sunrise was met with the not so soft roars of awakening dragons. Soon their daily rituals of fighting the other broods for pride and food would commence. Snorting dismissively as he did not wish to become a trophy for other dragons to squabble over, Rhocielle continued on along the path. His shadow grew longer in his wake as each step was taken, a peering sun over the flat horizon of the plateau giving cause to squint granite eyes. Cape billowed with a rush of morning breeze that slowly drifted westward to clear the dreary haze of the wasteland beneath. There was nothing but flat and lifeless earth. Prime for development, by merchants. Prime for death, by dragons. The terrain offered no protection to any would be travelers, no more than the plateau itself provided. However, it was further east of the hidden caves and nests the broods resided in. A meager added measure of safety, but well worth the costs of tearing down a stone wall and building upon the elevated grounds towards the remains of the castle.

Keeping to the high ground rather than backtracking through the barren wilderness, the wolf made his way once more to the city proper of Rynvale. Cooler fog interlaced with the streets and buildings of the port, a respite from the stuffy environment northward. Sparing no expense in procuring the first ship back to the mainland, the Fold warder returned to report his findings.